


baby, i am a wreck when i'm without you

by TheLastAutumnLeaf



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fix-It, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:49:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23176240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastAutumnLeaf/pseuds/TheLastAutumnLeaf
Summary: Jaskier, Geralt wanted to say, but that would be a waste of breath. He had more important things to say, too many things. A muffled sort of hum came out. Jaskier stroked his cheeks. He was vaguely aware of Jaskier babbling on, but he couldn’t focus on that, didn’t have time to do that. His mind was fleeting and he was grasping at whatever he could hold onto. Three things. Three things he needed to say. Jaskier would have said that was a lot, even if Geralt was awake, but he needed to at least try.Thank you.I’m sorry.I love you.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 20
Kudos: 433
Collections: Best Geralt





	baby, i am a wreck when i'm without you

So maybe Geralt had been careless this time around. He could blame it on the sleepless nights, the funds getting low and not affording to take proper care of himself, but all of that was honestly his own fault as well. So yes Geralt had definitely been careless this time around and it wasn’t like the kikimora gave a shit because  _ of course, _ it was a fucking kikimora and now Geralt was pretty sure he was bleeding to death. A slow death and in horrible pain, which was, after all, what he deserved. 

* * *

There was  _ singing _ , or humming, more accurately, with occasional words here and there, and it was so familiar and wonderful, and  _ otherworldly _ . But even if there was an afterlife, Geralt wouldn’t go anywhere with nice singing. The only conclusion was to still be alive. Well, fuck. The singing kept up. The voice of a bard.  _ His _ bard. Too many things,  _ emotions, f e e l i n g s _ **_,_ ** mixed in his stomach and he  _ needed  _ to get some of them out. He coughed. Violently. It tasted like blood.

“Geralt? Fuck, shit.” The singing stopped and warm hands were on his face. 

"Don't choke on your own vomit or something, okay? I dragged you out of a  _ swamp _ for this, you don't just get to die."

_ Jaskier,  _ Geralt wanted to say, but that would be a waste of breath. He had more important things to say, too many things. A muffled sort of hum came out. Jaskier stroked his cheeks. He was vaguely aware of Jaskier babbling on, but he couldn’t focus on that, didn’t have time to do that. His mind was fleeting and he was grasping at whatever he could hold onto. Three things. Three things he needed to say. Jaskier would have said that was a lot, even if Geralt was awake, but he needed to at least try.

_ Thank you. _

_ I’m sorry. _

_ I love you. _

Geralt had no idea if any of the words came out.

* * *

The fire crackled, warming his body. Nearby Roach chewed quietly on grass and flowers. Small pickings at a lute were followed by singing.

“ _ The little Roach, _

_ was a little horse, _

_ Eating a little flower, _

_ And some grass, of course…” _ _  
_ The horse snorted.

“All right, all right, I’ll make you a better song someday,” the bard told her with a chuckle and there was the unmistakable sound of a hand patting a horse neck. Geralt willed his eyes open and found himself staring through leaves into a dark blue sky. He assumed it to be scattered with stars, but he couldn't focus. The night air was warm with a cool breeze and it smelt like food and flowers and his own blood. A feeling settled in his chest, sudden and urgent. Panic. Words. His fingers grasped at the ground and his face twitched. The lute strumming and singing stopped abruptly and Jaskier walked towards him with quick steps. Bare feet in dew-wet grass. Geralt had to try again.

“Thank you,” he croaked and it turned into a cough and he squeezed his face shut.

“Hey, easy now,” Jaskier said softly. Geralt slowly opened his eyes back up. Jaskier was on his knees by Geralt’s head and bright, blue eyes were peering down at him. His face was painted with worry and a gentle smile as he stroked the hair away from Geralt’s face.

_ I’m sorry. _

_ I love you. _

* * *

Nausea woke him up this time. His mouth was already dripping and instinctively he threw himself to the side and let the vomit out. It was painful, everything hurt. A stabbing pain down the side of his body he leant onto, but then the pressure was relieved a little and he was pulled into the lap of his bard, hands gently combing through his hair. The vomit came again. Jaskier held his hair with one hand and Geralt's body from faceplanting into his own vomit with the other. Geralt was heaving afterwards. Slowly, Jaskier's voice filled his ears.

"That's it, get it up. At least it's not blood."

Jaskier had probably been talking the whole time, Geralt realised. His voice was soft and calm and he kept up a stream of nonsense Geralt didn't bother trying to make sense of. Instead, he relaxed into Jaskier's lap and rolled onto his back, letting Jaskier pet him and stroke his hair. Then the vomit sat in his throat again. But it wasn't vomit this time. It was words, pressing to come out. Geralt opened his mouth and let them flow, as many as he could.

"Thank you." Jaskier squeezed his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Geralt tried. 

"Rest now," Jaskier whispered gently and kept stroking Geralt's face.

_ I love you. _

* * *

Jaskier hadn't moved away, just shifted, when Geralt awoke again. Geralt was still in his lap and Jaskier's hands were still tenderly touching his face. The air was colder now, but the sky brighter, nearing dawn. Jaskier was looking straight ahead into the dying fire; his mouth still for probably the first time all night. His eyes looked heavy in his pale face. Geralt wanted to touch him. His arms didn't function. Jaskier reacted to the stirring and looked down. His tired face lightened up into a smile.

"Hey there." He brushed his knuckles over Geralt's cheek.

"You look more awake than the other times. Do you even remember being awake?"

"Thank you." Jaskier chortled.

"I couldn't exactly let you bleed out when I found you like that," he smiled sadly. Somehow, that hurt Geralt more than anything. Even after the shit he'd done, Jaskier had saved his life. Jaskier had stayed the night to watch over him.

"I'm sorry." Jaskier's sad smile turned strained.

"Let's not talk about that right now," Jaskier sighed but quickly added: "I'm still mad, don't get me wrong! You acted absolutely horribly on that mountain, Geralt, and that's not just gonna be okay. But I think you need to be more conscious when we have that conversation."

Jaskier took a deep breath, and his face settled back into something milder.

"I love you," Geralt whispered. 

"I know," Jaskier smiled down at him. His face was suddenly close. He placed a kiss on Geralt's forehead and touched his nose to his. "You already told me that."

**Author's Note:**

> did we really need another fix-it fic in this fandom? Yes. Yes, we do. We are desperate for fixings. This is just a shirt thing, bc i have a lot of ideas but absolutely no plot for anything. 
> 
> Title is from Ricky Montgomery's "line without a hook" which is just,,, so geraskier to me. That is life.
> 
> Come talk about the witcher with me on Tumblr at [zooks-trash](https://zooks-trash.tumblr.com/)


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